


Since when did you get a knife?

by kitkatkaylie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Jon is tired, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Satin is a precious cinnamon roll, mention of bullying, standing up to bullies, with a knife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie
Summary: Jon is used to playing the role of Satin’s Knight, until, one day, that role is no longer needed.
Relationships: Satin Flowers/Jon Snow
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53





	Since when did you get a knife?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post by @nostraightstarks:
> 
> Ok like if someone wrote a jonsatin fic where satin is in danger and Jon goes in to save him but satin just kinda pulls out a knife and holds his own and Jon’s repressed feelings are being ✨awakened✨ I would pay them so much money

There was jeering filtering up from the yard, the sort of jeering that was usually only aimed at one member of the Watch. 

Jon had wondered where Satin had got to.

With a sigh he pushed himself up from his desk and the mountain of paperwork that threatened to engulf his every minute. He couldn’t leave Satin to the mercy of the men, not when the last time Satin had been cornered (that Jon knew of) he had come back with a split lip and bruises all up his side.

They were supposed to be brothers all, the men of the Watch, but then, if their recent visitor proved anything, it was that brothers fought.

Jon was getting tired of them always picking on Satin though, he assumed it was because he was an easy target, soft and delicate as he was. Jon did not mind saving him, he quite enjoyed the chance to play knight in shining armour, but he did wish that the bullies would occasionally turn their attentions elsewhere.

There was an eye roll or ten from the men he passed, and one even started to hun the first bars of ‘Aemon the Dragonknight’ as he walked by. Evidently his brothers all found the situation hilarious, and Jon himself probably would have as well, if it was occurring to anyone else. 

(And he had, he remembered with a pang, when Robb had spent a week defending Theon from the constant taunts of the Karstark sons back Before.) 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation when he saw who exactly was stood around Satin. He should have guessed it would be the idiots sent from Kings Landing, Janos Slynt and his cronies. 

Jon knew he should not wish death upon a man, but he did hope that Slynt did something insubordinate enough that Jon could be rid of him. He did not think he would ever be able to work with a man who held some of the responsibility for the death of Jon’s father. Not when the loss of father had led to Jon losing Robb and Bran and Rickon as well. 

He advanced on the group, and managed to catch Satin’s eye, a reassurance that he would not leave him at their mercy.

Satin’s shoulders relaxed, and one of the men must have thought it an invitation for he made to grab Satin’s delicate arm.

Jon’s hand shot to Longclaw, ready to defend his friend, but there was no need. There was no need for Jon, not when the man’s hand never not near Satin. Not when it was stopped by the blade of a knife and a wickedly sharp grin. 

“If you will excuse me, gentlemen.” Satin purred from behind his knife, “I do believe the Lord Commander is expecting me.”

The knife and the grin sparked  something in Jon’s belly, a stirring he had not felt since Ygritte. 

“You aren’t going anywhere, you little whore.” Slynt spat, “That tiny blade wont do you any good against us, it’ll only make things worse for you.”

Grunts of agreement came from Slynt’s lackeys, and Jon felt the bolt of  something in his chest soon overpowered by rage. How dare they speak to Satin so cruelly, how dare they dismiss him for his former occupation, as though they themselves were not rapists and murderers and thieves. 

The same grunt as before reached for Satin again, and this time the blade was not just used as a warning, this time blood decorated its shining surface and a howl of pain filled the air.

“Little shit got me!” The grunt complained, holding his wrist tightly in an obvious attempt to staunch the bleeding.

The second of the attackers obviously decided that Satin was not worth the possibility of being stabbed, for instead he took hold of his bleeding friend and started to lead him away.

“Cowards.” Slynt hissed, turning back to Satin with a horrible leer, “I suppose it means I will just have you all to myself.”

Jon caught Satin’s eye once more, and offer to deal with Slynt for him, but Satin refused with a tiny shake of his head. Undoubtedly he had something planned for Slynt. 

As soon as Slynt was in range Satin moved. He ducked under Slynt’s outstretched arms and behind the larger man, so that he was pressed to his back, his face alongside the rage filled face of the former Commander of the City Watch. 

Satin pressed the point of the knife to Slynt’s temple, hard enough that a bead of blood welled up at the tip.

“Touch me again,” Satin drew the point of the knife down Slynt’s face, leaving a trail of blood as he did, “And I will cut your fucking throat and feed you to Ghost.”

Slynt’s eyes never stopped tracking the blade, and sweat beaded on the top of his head from fear. 

As soon as Satin removed the blade Sung stumbled away, his own feet tripping him as he scrambled to get away from Satin.

“Since when did you get a knife?” Jon called out, relived that Satin was unhurt. 

Satin shrugged, “I picked it up in the armoury, thought it might come in useful.” 

His eyes lit up and he sauntered over to Jon, the knife still held loosely in his hand, it’s blade still red with blood. 

“Are you going to stab me with that knife?” Jon joked, a hint of sincerity in his question.

Satin grinned again, the same sharp, wicked grin as before, “Maybe not with this blade, and only if you ask me to, Lord Commander.” 

Jon swallowed heavily at the images that brought up, at the insinuation he was sure Satin was making, and attempted to ignore the way his breeches tightened. It was hardly appropriate for him to bring up an attraction he might feel for his steward, and the knife was merely further incentive not to push his affections at Satin.

They made their way up to the warmth of Jon’s chambers, passing raised eyebrows and more than one man humming or singing a love song at them both. 

Satin placed the knife down when they entered, and turned to Jon with a slightly scared look on his face. 

“As much as I liked defending myself and the fear on Slynt’s face,” Satin said with a strange sort of nervousness, “I must confess that I do quite like it when you save me. It makes me feel like Queen Naerys with my own Dragonknight.”

Jon looked at him and allowed his lips to pull up into the hint of a smile, “Is there a reason you chose a romance for you example?” 

Satin’s eyes met his, with that same confidence that Jon had found so attractive in the yard, “Yes, there is. I’m afraid, Lord Commander, that I am quite hopelessly in love with you.” 

Jon’s smile pulled into a grin and he pulled Satin into a kiss, “I do believe, Satin Flowers, that the feeling is entirely mutual.”

He glanced at the table as they separated and the knife that lay upon its surface. 

“Do me a favour though please,” Jon asked, “If I do something to upset or offend you, please tell me before pulling your knife on me.” 

Satin laughed and pulled Jon into another kiss, “Don’t worry. I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, find me on tumblr @istaricelebelasse


End file.
